(no subject)
Continued from Here
"I'm sure I'll love it," I tell him as I pick up the cutlery. A bemused look gets tossed his way due to his fretting over the fact that perhaps it's a little to spicy. Wonder if he in his nervousness recalls that I like things to be spicy. My favorite dishes are mostly Indian and they are damn spicy. Curry, Chicken Tandori, even he could taste *that* when I'd ordered it.
So I'm not to worried about things being to spicy. At least not where the food it concerned.
I'm aware of his eyes on me when I take a few bites from the chicken. Which is good. The chicken I mean, not the nervous watching. the broccoli is perfection as well, and so is the rice. I'm serious about Angel forgetting about the demonic business and open up a restaurant. He could still do the visions, though it would probably look a bit odd if the customers have to wait for some time before they get dinner.
"Stop fretting," I murmur, giving him a glance and holding back a chuckle. For all about one second. "It's great. You know I love it hot. The-the food that is." Oh, sometimes I wonder about myself. Quite a lot.
Shaking my head I keep eating the food Angel's prepared, making sure to savor each bite, the taste, the texture, the flavor. Now would be the time, I muse, to play a daring game of...how do they call it? Oh yes, 'footsie'. If we'd be in a restaurant we'd be playing footsie now.
Except that makes me think back to our last date and how I did a whole hell of a lot more then just playing footsie. I stare at the wineglass which has found it's way into my hand, suspiciously eye the content and am relieved to notice I couldn't have had more then a few sips. "Great wine too," I say, quickly putting it down despite my words.
"I'm sure I'll love it," I tell him as I pick up the cutlery. A bemused look gets tossed his way due to his fretting over the fact that perhaps it's a little to spicy. Wonder if he in his nervousness recalls that I like things to be spicy. My favorite dishes are mostly Indian and they are damn spicy. Curry, Chicken Tandori, even he could taste *that* when I'd ordered it.
So I'm not to worried about things being to spicy. At least not where the food it concerned.
I'm aware of his eyes on me when I take a few bites from the chicken. Which is good. The chicken I mean, not the nervous watching. the broccoli is perfection as well, and so is the rice. I'm serious about Angel forgetting about the demonic business and open up a restaurant. He could still do the visions, though it would probably look a bit odd if the customers have to wait for some time before they get dinner.
"Stop fretting," I murmur, giving him a glance and holding back a chuckle. For all about one second. "It's great. You know I love it hot. The-the food that is." Oh, sometimes I wonder about myself. Quite a lot.
Shaking my head I keep eating the food Angel's prepared, making sure to savor each bite, the taste, the texture, the flavor. Now would be the time, I muse, to play a daring game of...how do they call it? Oh yes, 'footsie'. If we'd be in a restaurant we'd be playing footsie now.
Except that makes me think back to our last date and how I did a whole hell of a lot more then just playing footsie. I stare at the wineglass which has found it's way into my hand, suspiciously eye the content and am relieved to notice I couldn't have had more then a few sips. "Great wine too," I say, quickly putting it down despite my words.